Tears For the Forgotten
by TheBoBeksinator
Summary: It was a normal night; Canada and Prussia were watching a movie. But everything changes when his door is burst open by German soldiers. The only thing Matthew can think to do is make it stop, and keep his love by his side.
1. Chapter 1

"Gil!" Matthew screams like he had never screamed in the entirety of his existence. His violet eyes go wide as his arm is yanked and he's sustained in the air for a brief moment before falling to the ground. He twists and jerks his arm violently, trying to escape the tight hold. "Gil! GILBERT!" he screams, pulling in vain away from Alfred.

"Mattie, there's nothing you can do! As a nation, you can't help! It's too late!" Alfred says, grabbing his brother's other wrist and stopping his struggles. He looks him directly in the eye before continuing. "Listen to me! It's not like he's dying! He'll still exist, he'll be back!" he pulls Matthew into a tight embrace, putting his arms around him.

That's just it. He'll still exist, but the pain of being forgotten by humanity? The pain of existence after that, living, but with no given purpose? Just being there? And the suffering of the process… Matthew can't even imagine it. He hates his brother for saying that it 'wouldn't be that bad' and 'calm down'. How can he be expected to calm when the most important person in the entire world is being quite literally ripped from him?

Matthew pushes his brother away slightly, his entire body tense. His eyes stay down, and for a millisecond it seems as though he decided to accept the event. But he's far from accepting. He pulls back his clenched fist and connects it with Alfred's cheekbone with far more force than expected. Alfred is sent staggering, clutching his bleeding cheek. He calls after his brother, but he isn't heard.

Matthew runs faster and with more purpose than he has ever run before. His breath becomes labored, but as long as he can see the pure white head of hair, he ignores it; doesn't even feel the physical ache forming in his chest. All he cares about is stopping them. Stopping Ludwig from taking his beloved. Stopping Ludwig from leading him to the extreme period of absolute torture to follow. He doesn't even want to think about it.

As he gets closer he can see the look of defeat on Gilbert's face. It's utterly disheartening, and Matthew chokes on a sob threatening to pass his lips and spill from his eyes. But one thing still gives him hope. Even though he's being dragged easily by Ludwig, even though he's surrounded by German soldiers, he's still fighting. It's a struggle and isn't doing much, but it shows that he's determined and still himself.

"GIL!" Matthew cries. The brothers before him are nearing the many vans parked on the road at the end of his driveway. Yes, his driveway. They had broken into his home to drag Gilbert away, without even the decency and politeness to simply knock on the door. Not that it would have made the situation any better.

Gilbert's head turns and his ruby eyes meet Matthew's. "Mattie… MATTIE!" he yells, wrestling even harder with Ludwig's iron grip. Panic grabs hold of him as he realizes just how quickly everything will change. He realizes exactly what will be happening once he and his brother arrive at their destination, and it's something only meant to be done with 'Birdie', certainly not his brother. He notices a few more cars come to a halt, and a certain blond explode from one of them. His best friend, just in time to watch his worst failure.

Matthew's eyes widen as he watches what happens next. He even stops running. Gilbert is first shoved against the side of a van, curses flooding from his beautiful lips. His eyes shut in pain as his wrists are bound, and Ludwig is continuously shouting in German. Next, Gilbert is shoved into the open double doors of the same van by about 8 pairs of arms. His forehead hits the roof, and he's sent sprawling into the back of the van. As he falls he lets out a blood-curdling scream.

Amidst the slamming of doors and starting of engines, Gilbert somehow manages to get to his knees, for through a small barred window Matthew sees pale hair stained with wet blood and one red eye.

"MATTIE! I'LL BE BACK! DON'T WORRY! MAKE ME SOME PANCAKES FOR WHEN I GET BACK, OKAY?"

Surprisingly, his shout is heard over the roar of numerous engines and breaks Matthew out of his stupor. He inhales deeply and suddenly and is sprinting again. He's sprinting after the van, after his lover, after his reason for living. He pushes himself to go even faster, striving to keep up with van and the albino contained within.

"GIL!" he shouts again, reaching out towards the van.

"I LOVE YOU, BIRDIE!"

The last thing Matthew hears is that sentence but his reply is lost as the van speeds away. Matthew starts off again but stops. He stands panting, fists clenched and violet eyes wide. Then his brain catches up on everything that just happened. It remembers the sound of his door being burst open, the German shouts, the looks of confusion, anger, terror, panic, and determination all on the same perfect face; he remembers the sudden unnoticed chill, the look of nonexistent emotion on Ludwig's face, the ugly green uniforms and paint on the German vehicles that took the _Prussian_ away. He remembers it all, and in the absolute worst definition of the word.

He screams. It's as simple as that; he loses it. His chin tilts up to the dusky sky and his eyes shut, and his lungs empty themselves. They pour out everything to the undying darkness, and he forgets the world in these solitary moments while he just… screams. Every emotion he has ever felt is poured into this. The annoyance with Alfred when they were younger as well as two mere minutes ago, the frustration when he's never recognized, the fear of Ivan that night many years ago when he attempted to take him over. But also the happiness of family, the love from those few select countries. The love of the one who was just taken from him.

His scream turns into uncontrollable sobbing. His hands move up to clutch his blond hair, gripping the strands just hard enough so that there's pain, but not much. Just enough so he actually feels _something_, so that he knows he's still real, that he's really alive and awake. And that's the worst realization.

With tears literally streaming down his face, he falls slowly to his knees right there in the middle of the street. He wraps his arms around his middle and just cries. Another being comes from somewhere, falling behind Matthew and pulling him against his chest. Matthew feels himself being rocked slowly back and forth, and rests his head on the man behind him, who then strokes his hair and starts murmuring soothingly in French.

Matthew feels completely numb, is dizzy and light-headed, yet the tears don't stop and his body continues to shake and tremble. Even when the tears stop due to the dehydration taking over, his body continues to shake and his sobs continue. His actual feelings have disappeared, except for the sadness and abandonment. He simply can't feel anything else.

"We have to get out of the middle of the road, mon cher. I'll take you home, okay?" the heavily French-accented voice whispers, rubbing Matthew's bare arms. Matthew shakes his head violently.

"Not home… anywhere but home… not without Gil…" his voice breaks at the name and sobs over come him mid-sentence. Because of this, his request isn't heard, and is taken as mere mumbles of grief. He sort of feels arms tighten around him and he's lifted into the air bridal style. He puts his arms around Francis' neck, and buries his face into his shoulder.

Once set on a bed, he strips to his boxers. He's too numb to really care about anything, much less having his 'Papa' seeing him slightly exposed. He sinks into the bed sheets, the scent of Gilbert still so fresh and present. He takes a deep breath, but chokes on a new round of tears threatening to overflow. He lets out a low moan and draws the Prussian's pillow close to his body, clinging to it tightly. It feels so weird sleeping by himself. It will be even worse come morning, when he wakes up screaming thanks to the many nightmares haunting his subconscious. He keeps reminding him that this won't be forever, that Gilbert will be back- but that almost makes it worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew sat up, twisting to the side. There was no warmth next to him, no body curled around him. His violet eyes searched his room, his fingers clutching his sheets in a death grip. His eyes searched his unopened closet, the dark corners of his bedroom, and the little bit of the hallway he could see passed his door. But he found nothing. He reached to open the shades over his window with extremely shaky hands. He gave them a harsh tug, and his room was bathed with bright sunlight. He reached up his hand to shield his squinted eyes, which fall on the bed beside him. The sheets were undisturbed with nothing but a few mere wrinkles. Is Gilbert already awake? He's never up before me… maybe he's trying to surprise me!

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, hope glimmering in his violet eyes. He threw on a pair of red pajama pants, reveling in the soft touch. It gave him a sense of comfort as well as safety. He looked down at his bare torso, but decided a shirt was not necessary. So, with his bare feet pounding down the hallway, he set off to see what was in store from his lover. He listened intently for any sign of the man, but received no clues. Only when he got to the stairs did he hear anything.

He heard the distinct sizzling of meat cooking on a stove, and smelled the bacon as well as the cakey scent filling the air. Was Gilbert really making him breakfast? Pancakes, at that? His heart skipped a beat, despite the fact that the scent was too sweet to be pancakes and that it was accompanied by a lemony scent. Matthew flung himself down the first couple of steps but slowed down when he heard singing. Sweet singing, too. And it wasn't in English, though he still understood the smooth words. French. Extremely confused as to why his lover would be singing in French, he crept ever further down the stairs.

To find France in his kitchen, dancing and singing while cooking breakfast. Matthew just stared in shock and mostly confusion. Why was his Papa here? Was he visiting him and Gilbert? Was Gilbert simply out with Antonio somewhere? What the hell was going on?!

Francis turned around, his smile faltering slightly before he makes it bigger. He made his way over to the Canadian, his blond hair swaying along with his body. He put his arms around Matthew and pulled him into a tight embrace. Still extremely confused, Matthew returned the hug. He blinked a few times when Francis stroked his hair soothingly before pulling away. Francis' hands remained on Matthew's shoulders while he searched the other's violet eyes. With a slight sigh and what looked to Matthew to be a reassuring smile, the Frenchman returned to his cooking.

When instructed to, Matthew took a seat at his cluttered table, which he found to be surprisingly clear of clutter. Had his Papa really cleaned up? Looking around, his question was answered. His living room was spotless- numerous magazines were stacked neatly on his coffee table, video games were in their boxes and on a shelf on his t.v stand, and even his Xbox was neatly placed on another shelf, cords all tucked away. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, staring at the ugly vacuum lines in his carpet. He didn't like it. It wasn't he and Gilbert's lifestyle.

But that was forgotten when plates were set before him. A plate full of crispy bacon first, and he removed some to be put on his plate instead. That was followed by a bowl of browned diced russet potatoes, which he also took a hearty helping of, though careful to leave enough for both Francis and Gilbert. Matthew found himself glancing at the windows and front door every few seconds, as if waiting for someone. In truth, he was. He was waiting for Gilbert and Antonio to come waltzing in obnoxiously with something from the grocery store or a case of beer to restock the fridge. But he was distracted again when a crepe was slid onto his plate.

"Lemon and sugar, your favorite mon cher." Francis said, his smile happy. It seemed a bit strained, but Matthew decided it was nothing. So they both continued with breakfast, Matthew grateful for the food but strangely aware of Francis' unwavering stare. After he swallowed his present bite of lemon and sugar crepe, he looked up questioningly.

"Papa, are you okay?" he asked quietly, searching the elder blond's gaze. Francis sighed and poked at his semi-eaten breakfast. He looked back up, meeting Matthew's eyes.

"Are _you_ okay, mon cher?" his voice held deep concern that reflected in his bright blue eyes. Matthew stared back, obviously confused. He blinked a few times, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes… is there something wrong?"

Francis stood with a clang as he dropped his fork onto the plate. He rushed over to Matthew and threw his arms around him from behind. He nestled his chin in the dip between his shoulder and neck and sighed. Matthew awkwardly patted the closest limb- Francis' elbow.

"You are so strong, mon cher… so strong… you are handling this so well…"

"What are you talking about, Papa?"

Francis pulled away out of the hug, and Matthew turned to face him. "What do you mean? What am I handling well?" he asked, still thoroughly puzzled.

"Gilbert being gone, Mathieu."

Matthew though before replying. What kind of joke was the Trio trying to pull? Any moment now, right when he started to panic, Gilbert and Antonio would jump out laughing their asses off. Matthew snickered quietly.

"What do you mean? Any minute, Gil and Toni are gonna jump out and scare me or whatever you guys planned. Why should I be freaking out, eh? You guys can come out!" he added staring around the silent house. His gaze then fell back on Francis. His eyes were wide and full of disbelief, his jaw slightly dropped.

"You are saying… you don't remember last night?"

"What do you mean? What happened last night? What's going on?!" Matthew had actually started yelling, his arms flailing in distress and confusion. Francis walked over to the now standing Canadian and pulled him into another tight embrace. After a moment or two, all Francis said was 'Germany' and everything came back to him.

The confusion and chaotic yells and screams. The rough grip of soldiers. The Prussian's vain struggles against his own brother. The fear evident in his eyes for once in his life. The warm grip of Alfred, the _restraining_ grip of Alfred, keeping him from chasing after his love. He remembered the harsh cold bite of the climate. He remembered the cold hard pavement under his feet. The pained yelps from his lover. The last words he heard from him, the last scream declaring his love. He remembered silvery hair slipping from his senses.

He remembered reality.

Matthew gasped, taking in air after about a good minute and a half. He blinked in shock, then wrapped his arms around himself, pushing Francis away. He felt his throat get tight and his entire body heat up. He shut his eyes against tears and his lip trembled. A hand came up to his face and covered his mouth. The tears spilled, sliding down his cheeks one after the other in a continuous river. His sobs were quiet and controlled at first, but as he became light-headed he stumbled forward to be caught by Francis' strong arms. With the support, he flung his arms around him and wept.

He wept not only for himself, but mostly for the Prussian. The agony that was probably wreaking his unhuman body was most likely intolerable. Worse pain than anyone or anything should ever experience. He was being stripped of countryhood, and by none other than his own little brother. Matthew didn't even want to dwell on this, imagine the face of agony and screams of pain. He pleaded these thoughts to go away and never return. He told himself that his lover would be fine, and he was overreacting.

But in truth, he wasn't overreacting. If anything, everything was so much worse for the Prussian than any country could ever imagine. The Prussian was only hoping to survive and not crash, because he had a beautiful bird that expected him home. But giving everything up and succumbing to nothingness didn't sound like too bad of an option.


End file.
